A Review of the Festival International du Film de Femmes de Salé
September 17-22, 2012
You can watch awards shows or see what’s being made and you still don’t see women who have the career of Todd [Haynes] or Gus [Van Sant] or Wes Anderson, or any of those men who make personal films. I teach for a living and make movies when I can. I’ve never made money from my films.
- Kelly Reichardt -
The oldest city on the Atlantic coast, Salé is strategically situated at the mouth of the Bouregreg River, opposite Rabat, its sister city. Rabat was founded in the 12th century, and until the 19th century it was known as the New Salé. Salé’s origins, in contrast, can be traced back to antiquity. Etymologically, its name is thought to derive from the Phoenician word “sala” or the Amazigh word “Asla” both meaning rock. Under the Romans, it flourished as Sala Colonia in the province of Tingitane Mauritania; in his history, Pliny the Elder described the city as full of elephants and foreigners. From the 11th century, Salé became a noted religious center, as well as a major port.
Its medina “is a veritable open air museum, with numerous monuments, hispano-mauresque riads, zaouiyas or religious structures, marabouts, and private libraries.”1 Its ramparts, among the most extensive in Morocco, were restored in this period by the Sultan Abû Yûsuf Ya'qûb al-Mansûr. In the 17th century, while its twin city lay dormant, Salé became a capital of corsairs with the arrival of a significant wave of Moors, fleeing the Spanish Reconquista. Those pirates, intent on fighting Christian powers in Europe, captured prisoners whom they enslaved: their captives included the Spanish novelist, Cervantes, as well as the fictional character of Benjamin Crusoe.2 (Salé’s colorful history during this period was recently recounted by Hassan Aourid in his novel Le Morisque, Editions Bouragreg, 2011). Besides its renown for religious learning, Salé earned a reputation, in the 19th century, as a locus of nationalist resistance. Consequently, in 1912, Salé was forced to take a back seat to its longtime rival when Rabat was made the administrative capital of the French Protectorate. During the Protectorate, the very first demonstrations for national independence against the French and the Spanish were set off in Salé. Today, Salé remains known for its souks, among the oldest and most authentic in the country, and for several annual festivals, including THE FESTIVAL INTERNATIONAL DU FILM DE FEMMES DE SALÉ (FIFFS).3
Founded in 2004, the Festival is organized by the Bouregreg Foundation, and expertly directed by Abdellatif Laassadi, Assistant Director of the Centre Cinématographique Marocain. In 2009, it became a yearly event. This past September, I had the pleasure of attending its 6thedition. The in-competition films were screened at the Hollywood Cinema in Salé.
Outside the Hollywood Cinema, Salé
At the beginning of the festival, my friend, the Moroccan film critic, Ahmed Boughaba, observed that the premise of a film festival like the FESTIVAL INTERNATIONAL DE FILMS DE FEMMES DE CRÉTEIL, which was founded during the heady militancy of 1970s feminism, is today a bit old-fashioned and out of touch, because it continues to exclusively showcase films made by women. Despite their similar sounding names, there is an important distinction between the Salé and Créteil festivals. Salé shows not only films by women, but also films by men, where female protagonists take center stage. This is a significant category, when you consider a recent, academic study, “It’s a Man’s (Celluloid) World,” that depressingly concludes that females in Hollywood films “remain dramatically under-represented as characters.”4 In 2011, females constituted 33 % of all characters in the 100 American films that best performed at the box office (up 5 % from 2002, when they represented only 28 % of this pool). But here’s the real downer: only a meager 11 % of these female characters are protagonists. And the prognosis gets worse: this represents a decrease of 5 % from 2002, when 16 % of protagonists were female.
My initial, gut reaction to Ahmed’s comment was to concur. But later, I remembered that there was not a single film by a female director in the 2012 edition of the Cannes film festival: that statistic alone gives us considerable reason to pause and to conclude that the brief of a festival like Créteil is far from being obsolete. . . . I highly recommend reading the hard-hitting, satirical op-ed, “A Cannes, les femmes montrent leurs bobines, les hommes leurs films” [At Cannes, Women Show their Faces, Men their films”] that was published in Le Mondelast May. 5 Perhaps Ahmed’s comment reflects the fact that Moroccan female filmmakers are simply faring better than their North American and Gallic counterparts? Earlier this year, I was surprised, for instance, to learn that women directors have three times won the Grand Prix at Morocco’s National Film Festival, which to date has had just thirteen editions.6 In this context, it’s sobering to remember that Kathryn Bigelow’s historic win came at the 82nd Oscars ceremony in 2010. . . .
While Créteil features a jury of both men and women, the FIFFS is distinguished by its all female jury, which this year was presided by Aruna Vasudev, a well-known specialist of Indian cinema and included other female dignitaries such as Fatemeh Motamed Arya, the Iranian actress; Abeer Sabry, the Egyptian actress; Fanta Régina Nacro, the Burkinabé director and producer; Ounie Lecomte, the French director; and the Moroccan filmmaker, Selma Bargarch.
Morocco hosts around 50 film festivals annually, approximately seven of which, including the FIFFS, are first-tier. Together, all of these festivals play a crucial role in a country that currently holds no more than 60 screens. This year’s FIFFS hosted twelve films from around the world, with three films by men, and with special homages to Argentine film and the French distribution company ACID (Association du cinema independent pour sa diffusion). While the in-competition films were screened at the Hollywood cinema in Salé, debates and conferences were held in Salé at the Dawliz Hotel, which is situated on an admirable site offering a panoramic view across the Bouregreg river of Rabat, with the Tower of Hassan II and the royal mausoleum seen in the far distance.
The brainchild of Souheil Ben Barka, the former director of the Centre Cinématographique Marocain, the Dawliz Hotel opened in 1992 and features three comfortable screenings rooms where I saw two out-of-competition films: Hélène Milano’s wonderfully titled, Black Roses, about young women of Maghrebin or African origin living on the outskirts of Paris and Marseille, and the fascinating documentary about female activists in Tunisia (Activists) by Sonia Chamki.
This year’s official competition featured some exceptional films. The American entry, Kelly Reichardt’s Meek’s Cutoff (2011) represents a new kind of Western. A group of Christian settlers become lost under the guidance of their leader, Stephen Meek (Bruce Greenwood), as they head westward over the Oregon trail. Stranded on a desert plateau, they must either follow their heretofore unreliable but hubristic guide or trust the path pointed to them by their Indian hostage, whom Meek regards as their natural enemy. Do the pioneers ultimately find a source of water? The film’s ending, with the Indian leading the way, is open, albeit ominous. The film’s script features relatively little dialogue (“I feel like a lot’s being said all the time, it’s just not in the dialogue,” says the director7), and the actors, including Paul Dano, Zoe Kazan, and particularly Michelle Williams are all superb.
Michelle Williams and Shirley Henderson
Reichardt, who has been making movies since the early 1990s, is best known to date for Wendy and Lucy (2008) that also starred Williams. Writing in The Guardian, Ryan Gilbey rightly calls her new release: “radical [. . .] on every level. Most obviously, it’s a western that priortises the female perspective.” The filmmaker notes that “‘Women are usually the objects. But I always wondered what, say, John Wayne in The Searchers must have looked like to the woman cooking his stew.’” This new kind of Western presents us with a contest of power between male versus female authority: despite the fact that she is married to a much older man, it is Emily (Michelle Williams) who defies the willful Meek and defends the Indian prisoner at gunpoint. She also rebukes Meek’s simplistic worldview: men, he tells her, are a force of destruction, and women of chaos.
In preparation for the film, Reichardt studied the journals of pioneering women who actually crossed Oregon with the historical Stephen Meek in the mid-19th century:
‘When you read these accounts you see just how much the traditional male viewpoint diminishes our sense of history. I wanted to give a different view of the west from the usual series of masculine encounters and battles of strength, and to present this idea of going west as just a trance of walking.’
Interestingly, Reichardt also visually breaks with the tradition of filming Westerns in widescreen format, instead preferring to recall the Westerns of Anthony Mann and early John Ford.
Meek’s Cutoff is Reichardt’s fourth feature, but she won’t be giving up her teaching
position at Bard College anytime soon. Her experience suggests that festivals like Créteil and Salé are not defunct, and that we need to rethink how to provide more ongoing support to mid-career female directors. Reichardt again from The Guardian interview:
‘I had ten years from the mid 1990s when I couldn’t get a movie made. It had a lot to do with being a woman. That’s definitely a factor in raising money. During that time, it was impossible to get anything going, so I [. . .] did Super shorts instead.’ She’s doubtful that the climate has changed much, even after Kathryn Bigelow’s best director Oscar for The Hurt Locker. ‘I’m outside the industry so I have no idea. But you can watch awards shows or see what’s being made and you still don’t see women who have the career of Todd [Haynes] or Gus [Van Sant] or Wes Anderson, or any of those men who make personal films. I teach for a living, and I make movies when I can. I’ve never made money from my films.’8
The top award at this year’s FIFFS was won by the Japanese film Hanezu that I found stunning. Like Meek’s Cutoff, Hanezu similarly minimizes dialogue and nature too plays a central role. The film was projected in a pristine 35mm copy (but was shot digitally) and I only regret I didn’t have the opportunity to see it a second time. Its title is an archaic Japanese word taken from the 8th century collection of poetry entitled Manyoshu; unknown to most Japanese, the word signifies the color red. The director, Naomi Kawase, says she “resurrected” the word so her compatriots could “savor its meaning.” Thought to be the first color that humans recognized, red symbolizes blood, the sun, and fire.9 In an early scene in the film, we are shown a pool of pale red water. Our first interpretation that it is a watered-down blood bath is proven incorrect when the camera pulls back and reveals the heroine in the process of dyeing some scarves. But in the climax, the omen is confirmed when the heroine returns home to find her husband dead in a pool of crimson red in his bathtub. In between this striking visual rhyme, the story of a young woman with both a husband and a lover is set against the breathtaking backdrop of the ancient Nara region, where Japanese culture originated, with its three mountains that were thought to have been inhabited by the gods. A terrible storm precedes the husband’s suicide, a distinct example of the director’s use of pathetic fallacy. Kawase recounts not a banal story of adultery, but rather the expression of our relationship to nature where nothing can be rushed:
In the poems of the Manyoshu, the ancients who lived without cars or airplanes had to wait for their loved ones to visit, no matter how much they longed to see them. And they wrote their feelings of futility into their poems. They expressed their feelings by transferring them to the flowers and fruits of the season. Under the illusion that this (anything anytime) is richness and living their lives surrounded by all this, contemporary people seemed to have banished ‘waiting’ and live their lives centered on activity. If someone doesn’t respond, prod them. In all aspects of work, speed is given priority. But didn’t these ancients, with their sensibility of ‘waiting’ actually have a larger scale than we have today? It was from this perspective that I put a sense of ‘waiting’ into the film.10
The film competed in the 2011 Cannes Film Festival (a veritable bumper year for women, with four female directors in the main competition!). Writing on the blog “Movies that Make you Think,” Jugu Abraham calls Kawase “arguably the most interesting active Japanese director today.”11 What’s more, she’s a true auteur in the original sense of the term: not only does she have a distinctly personal vision, in addition to directing the film, she also wrote its screenplay (based on a novel by Masako Bando), was cameraman, as well as co-editor. I can’t wait to see her earlier films.
I was also smitten with the Russian film, Twilight Portrait, all the more so when I learned that it is the debut feature of Angelina Nikonova, a graduate of the School of Visual Arts in New York City. Interestingly, the film, which won for best screenplay, was co-produced and co-scripted by its lead actress Olga Dihovichnaya (Marina) who delivers a powerful performance. If the film’s title refers to a special setting on a second-hand camera that Marina buys to help a man on the street, Twilight Portrait is less concerned with individual portraiture than with contemporary Russia, where corruption, abuse, and violence reign.
Set in the port city of Rostov-on-Don, where Nikonova grew up in southern Russia, Twilight Portraiture opens with a double rape: first, a lower-class prostitute is raped by three loutish Russian policeman. The story then follows another young woman, distinctly upper-class, who has just had a tryst with her lover. On her way home, she has a series of mishaps: the heel of one of her shoes breaks; her purse is stolen in a drive-by theft; and she is raped in turn by the same three thugs. In mid-afternoon, she hobbles along until finally she takes refuge in a karaoke bar-restaurant. All she wants is a cup of coffee or even a glass of water, but the unfriendly, matronly waitress forces her to order a meal of sausage, beer, and vodka. That hefty, Russian fare turns out to be just the sort of comfort food our heroine, Marina, needs, and repeatedly she will come back to this dive over the course of the film.
We learn that Marina is a social worker who has become increasingly disenchanted with her job, where all she sees is an endless cycle of violence. In a scene reminiscent of Festen,12 her husband and friends throw her a surprise birthday party that provides Marina with the occasion to tell them what she really thinks of them (in two words: not much). Her venal husband is married to her for her money and her father’s business; sexually, he leaves her wanting. Unleashing grudges she’s been harboring for years, she blasts one of her girlfriends for “renting” a skirt to her for a little extra money during their school days! With such friends, we’re beginning to understand why Marina doesn’t smile much.
Repeatedly, the narrative advances seemingly in one direction, only to unexpectedly change course. When Marina encounters her three rapists, she decides to follow the best looking one home. Initially, she intends to disfigure him, but instead, she drops the glass shard in her hand and performs oral sex on him in his elevator. Shortly thereafter, she tells her husband she is taking a few days off to go visit her mother who lives in a distant town; instead, she moves in with her new, macho law-and-order boyfriend, Andrey.
Her motives are at first mysterious. Andrey lives with his grandfather, a former soldier, and younger brother in a squalid apartment, where the well-educated Marina quickly slips into a traditional female role of cook and housecleaner that seems not to displease the gruff Andrey. But the he-man in him reacts violently whenever she declares she loves him, which she does every time they engage in rough sex. Although Marina starts to look like one of the battered wives she counsels in her job, she still continues to utter the fatal three words. And slowly, we begin to understand her campaign; she’s gone under cover as a social worker. She even enlists Andrey, a former rapist, in one of her cases: a teenage girl has been regularly sexually abused by her father. Marina asks Andrey to threaten the man physically, so that he’ll leave his daughter alone, but instead the policeman kills him. Andrey’s skewed worldview allows for raping adult women, but draws the line at incest. Her brief, extracurricular assignment with Andrey over, Marina decides to return home to her husband. Andrey drops her off at the airport where she is supposed to have arrived, but instead of meeting her husband who arrives with a bouquet of flowers, Marina heads off on foot, suitcase in tow, into the city. The ending is wonderful. Twilight Portrait, like Meek’s Cutoff, similarly features an open ending, but in contrast to the American film, one that is distinctly optimistic: watching her, Andrey removes his gun belt and tells his partner to watch it for him, he’ll be back. In a long shot of the city at dusk, we watch as the Russian cowboy lopes after Marina.
The entry from Serbia, Children of Sarajevo is also very strong. The third feature for Aida Begic who won the Grand Prix at Cannes four years earlier for her debut feature, Snow. Children of Sarajevo is one she wrote, produced, and directed13; it draws the portrait of a brother and sister duo, Nedim, 14, and Rahima, 23, orphans of the Bosnian War. After taking drugs as a teenager, Rahim has embraced Islam and wears a headscarf. She modestly supports herself and her brother by working in a restaurant. Her life—drab and monotonous but nevertheless safe—is upended after Nedim destroys the cell phone of the son of local bigwig. The brother does a De Niro imitation fromTaxi Driver, but she’s the film’s real pivot and the hand held camera follows her around much like the Dardenne’s camera did with Olivier Gourmet in Le Fils. The film also incorporates footage of war-torn Sarajevo. The actress who plays Rahima, Marija Pikic, gives a subtle, deeply nuanced performance.
The French entry, Christine François’ The Secret of the Ant Children, recounts how certain African babies, considered evil spirits because they were born prematurely or their teeth grow strangely, are systematically killed by their families and communities. It’s the tale of a French woman, Cécile, who follows her former boyfriend, Didier, to northern Benin where he now lives. Her relationship with Didier is clearly over, but before Cécile leaves the country, a terrified mother hands over her infant son to Cécile. Christine François has written a fictional film based on real events and a practice that apparently remains widespread among the Bariba people in Benin. Her film also touches on the important topic of international adoption, as parents from rich countries increasingly adopt children from the third world. The child, Lancelot, despite Cécile’s love for him, suffers from deep-seated behavioral problems that have to do with his abandonment by his birth family. Cécile returns to Benin with Lancelot, where he has the chance to meet his real mother and father who finally understand he is no a sorcerer.
Christine François with Moroccan film critic Mohamed Dahane
One of the few filmmakers on hand for a q and a with the public at this year’s FIFFS, François, who is a graduate of La fémis, spoke eloquently and passionately. Her film has the distinct merit of bringing to our attention this little-known practice. Nonetheless, François partly misses the mark of her ambitions, because of her screenplay, on which no less four people collaborated. Several of the characters never really come alive: what, for instance, is Didier doing in Bénin? And the portrayal of Cécile’s mother is at best at caricature. I can’t help but think that François’s film, would have been better served by more silence and less dialogue.
In her review of the German film by the male director Jan Schomburg, Laura Tuffery writes that “We often forget that a film’s force, its indispensable framework is its screenplay” adding that the screenplay of Schomburg’s first feature is singularly adroit.14 Tuffery’s observations are spot on. The title in French, L’Amour et rien d’autre, strikes me as more intelligent than either its German original Uber uns das all or its insipid English translation Above us only Sky, which although a line from John Lennon’s song “Imagine,” doesn’t serve the film well.
Martha and Alexander
Schomburg cleverly narrates the quotidian of a thirty-something German couple: Martha is a schoolteacher, while her husband Paul who has just passed his doctorate in medicine. He announces that he has been offered a position in Marseille and that it’s a chance for them to escape the gray weather of Cologne. He leaves for France, while Martha packs up their belongings. The following day she receives a phone call from the Marseille police informing her that her husband committed suicide in his car in a Marseille parking lot. From there, the illusion of her happy marriage quickly unravels, as she realizes she was married to an impostor who had dropped out of his medical studies years before. In Greek, the name Paul signifies small or humble, and it’s as if Martha’s idea of him was so grand that he preferred killing himself rather than revealing the truth to her. The story partially recalls the astonishing, horror story of Jean-Claude Romand, the Frenchman who succeeded in convincing his family, for nearly two decades, he was a successful doctor and medical researcher. Several films were inspired by the Romand case, including Laurent Cantet’s excellent L’Emploi du temps and Nicole Garcia’s L’Adversaire. Those films, however, focus on the anti-hero’s pathological disorder; Schomburg, for his part, concentrates first on the young widow whose mourning is heightened by the fact that she never knew the man she called her husband. The director’s other interest is in doppelgängerand the film offers a casebook study not on narcissistic personality disorder (from which Romand and other impostors are thought to suffer), but on identification and substitution. Martha quickly tries to fill the void left by Paul’s death by an offer of casual sex to a university professor, Alexander. Biblically, Paul is the New Man Saul becomes after his conversion to Christianity. But here Paul makes way for Alexander, whose name in Greek appropriately means defender of men, and twice we see him lecturing the on role of the peasants in the 1848 revolution in Germany. In him, Martha, whose own name means lady or mistress, has found her man. The director originally toyed with the idea of having the same actor play the two roles (as Alain Delon did as both Roger and Richard Lennox in Godard’s magisterially complex Nouvelle Vague). I particularly appreciated the Austrian actor Georg Friedrich as Alexander. The mise en scène avoids all bravura and sets off Sandra Hüller’s credible, understated performance. The film embraces an unabashed happy ending as the two are seen in Marseille, where Alexander has just accepted a teaching post.
The Festival featured several homages, including one to Nouzha Drissi, founder of the FIDADOC Festival in Agadir, who brutally died in that city after being hit by a car while walking across a street. Despite the new driving regulations that went into effect last year, road fatalities in Morocco remain inordinately high. From a Western perspective, drivers here are frequently aggressive, refusing to give right of way to oncoming vehicles, despite the narrowness and often poor conditions of the roads. In 2011, 4,200 persons died in traffic accidents.15
This past September, in the worse bus accident of all time in Morocco, an overloaded bus careened off the mountain just after the dangerous Tizi-n-Tichka pass, the highest in Morocco, killing 42 of its 67 passengers; tragically, many of them were university students from Zagora and Ouarzazate on the way to Marrakech for the start of the new academic year.16 Surely it’s time for the Moroccan government to get serious about the long promised tunnel to connect Ouarzazate to Marrakech.17
There were other films in this year’s FIFFS also worthy of mention, in particular Roberta Marques’ Rânia , a moving portrayal of a young woman in Brazil trying to break out of her favela, as well as Andrés Wood’s Violeta Went to Heaven. The latter tells the story of the Chilean musician Violeta Parra whose melodramatic life echoes that of Frieda Kahlo. Ultimately, the real value of a festival like the FIFFS, it seems to me, lies precisely in its giving voice to so many amazing women, both on and off-screen, and I came away from the festival energized. In the closing award ceremony, the distinguished Iranian actress Fatemeh (Simin) Motamed Arya noted that “fanaticism is closing off opportunities to women,”adding that she hoped “the door of acting will remain open to women everywhere.” The award for best actress went to Carice Van Houten in the Dutch film set in South Africa, Ingrid Jonker, which unfortunately I missed. Since few of the directors of the in-competition films were on hand for the awards ceremony, the prizes were accepted by official representatives from their embassies. Of these emissaries, the Dutch ambassador to Morocco, Ron Strikker, stood out for his improvised wit and charm: “Hollywood I thought was in the U.S., he told us, But I was wrong, Hollywood is in Salé, Morocco!”
(Photos, other than film stills and posters, are by the author)
1 SALÉ, FRENCH WIKIPEDIA ENTRY [Accessed 10 October 2012].
2 Natacha Potier, Dix-sept regards sur la Maroc (Casablanca: Eddif, 2006), p. 108.
3 The author has drawn upon various sources for this thumbnail sketch of Salé, including conversations during the Festival and the Wikipedia entries in French and in English.
4 Martha M. Lauzen, Ph.D. “It’s a Man’s (Celluloid) World: On-Screen Representations of Characters in the Top 100 Films of 2011.” Pdf download available online at: “WOMEN STILL GETTING THE SHAFT IN HOLLYWOOD: REPORT.” [Accessed 2 October 2012]
5 The article is filled with double entendres. In the title, the authors play off the dual meaning of the word “bobine,” which is both film reel and face or mug. “A Cannes, les femmes montrent leurs bobines, les hommes leurs films” by Fanny Cottençon, Virginie Despentes, and Coline Serreau, Le Monde, 12 May 2012.
6 Laïla Kilani’s Sur la planche won the Grand Prix at the 2012 National Film Festival in Tanger; she is preceded by both Yasmine Kassari’sL’Enfant endormi in 2005 and Fatima Jebil Ouazzini’s La Maison de mon père in 1998. See my review: “BETWEEN EUROPE AND AFRICA, INCH’ALLAH: MOROCCO AND ITS 13TH NATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL IN TANGIER.”
7 Ryan Gilbey, “KELLY REICHARDT: HOW I TREKKED ACROSS OREGON FOR MEEK’S CUTOFF THEN RETURNED TO TEACHING,”The Guardian, 9 April 2011. (Accessed 3 October 2012).
See too her interview with James Ponsoldt, “LOST IN AMERICA: KELLY REICHARDT’S MEEK’S CUTOFF,” Filmmaker: The Magazine of Independent Film, 23 November 2011. [Accessed 7 October 2012]/
8 Ryan Gilbey, “KELLY REICHARDT: HOW I TREKKED ACROSS OREGON FOR MEEK’S CUTOFF THEN RETURNED TO TEACHING,”The Guardian, 9 April 2011. (Accessed 3 October 2012).
9 Press kit for the film Hanezu, downloaded from the WIKIPEDIA ENTRY FOR THE FILM. [Accessed 3 October 2012].
10 Hanezu press kit.
11 Jugu Abraham, “126. Japanese director Naomi Kawase . . . ” MOVIES THAT MAKE YOU THINK, 29 February 2012. [Accessed 8 October 2012].
12 See the filmmaker’s comments in the ONLINE INTERVIEW. [Accessed 9 October 2012].
13 Peter Bradshaw, “CANNES 2012 : CHILDREN OF SARAJEVO – REVIEW,” The Guardian, 23 May 2012. [Accessed 9 October 2012].
14 Laura Tuffery, “L’AMOUR ET RIEN D’AUTRE DE JAN SCHOMBURG, OSER AIMER. . .,”Médiapart, 18 April 2012. [Accessed 3 October 2012].
15 Palash R. Ghosh, “THE DANGEROUS ROADS OF MOROCCO: TRAFFIC FATALITIES VERY HIGH IN NORTH AFRICAN STATE,”International Business Times, U.S. Edition, 2 August 2012. [Accessed 7 October 2012].
16 Mohamed Chakir, “42 KILLED IN MOROCCO'S WORST-EVER BUS CRASH,” AFP, 4 September 2012. [Accessed 7 October 2012].
17 Ismaïl Harakat, “MARRAKECH-OUARZAZATE: LE TUNNEL DU DÉSENCLAVEMENT,” Maghress, 16 July 2010. [Accessed 9 October 2012].